


A Menu of Moments

by MrsCox



Category: Pitch (TV 2016)
Genre: Also Kara shows up, But I didn't know her last name so she's not tagged, Cocky Mike, Coffeeshop AU, College Student/Barista Ginny, F/M, Ginny's Not in the Major's Yet, Plenty of Padres Interaction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-11
Updated: 2017-02-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 12:35:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9657719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrsCox/pseuds/MrsCox
Summary: Flashes of Mike and Ginny's lives told through coffee shop pastries and receipts. I hope you like it!!





	

**_Black Coffee - $5_ **

Mike Lawson was a busy man. At least, he'd always prided himself on giving off that appearance. The sunglasses, the clenched jaw, the sound of chomping gum and barely-restrained contempt, it all added to the type of man that didn't like to be kept waiting. Who he was to San Diego, hell to the country, didn't hurt either. If a man could be a god, he skated the line, only coming down from the pillar that the MLB had erected for him to soak up the adoration from his many, many fans. And if last night was any indication, his fans were not only adoring, but impressively flexible and refreshingly adventurous in the bedroom. His body, used to being pushed to its limits and then a little farther, was wonderfully sore and the phone numbers crumpled in his back pocket were the reminder he needed to keep his spirits high. Souvenirs he required as he stood in line, his mouth twisting down into scowl, his gaze flicking down to the watch wrapped around his wrist and his patience dwindling.

Because Mike Lawson was a very busy man, and the perky barista was making him wait.

Mike let out an annoyed huff, his foot tapping to the upbeat song blaring through the café's speakers and his hands curling at his sides. He was supposed to be at practice fifteen minutes ago and his knees ached at the promise of Al's punishment. Shuffling forward, he cocked an expectant eyebrow as the girl behind the counter whistled to herself, swiping at the clean surface with a rag before glancing up at him.

"Hi," she chirped, her grin bright even as he glowered at her, "what can I get you?"

"Coffee," he grunted, ignoring his phone as it began to buzz.

"Okay," she said, unperturbed by increasingly dark mood swirling around him. "Well, you came to the place for that. Um, we have really good lattes, and the cold brew is supposedly great, although I haven't tried it yet and – "

"If you'd shut up for a second, I could actually order." She blinked, her smile dimming at the bite in his words. "I want a black coffee, nothing fancy. Think you can manage that?"

She nodded, a crease forming between her eyebrows as her smile fell away. "Coming right up."

His fingers drummed against the counter as she bustled around, humming quietly to herself as she worked. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes as she reached for a marker and began to write, already searching for a way to let her down easily. Sure, cute and young were usually his type, but there was something about the wide-eyed optimism radiating from her as she thrust the drink into his hand, her smile recovered and her humming charmingly off-key. He stopped looking for pure when easy came with every party and signing he went to.

"Thanks," he murmured, slapping a five down and eyeing her slanted, thin cursive. "But no thanks."

"Excuse me?"

"Your number," he slid the sleeve off his coffee, "I'm not interested. And a piece of advice? You'd probably get more tips if you stopped assaulting customers with all of that…well, I guess you could call it humming."

Her mouth fell open, drawing his gaze down to her lips just as she barked out a laugh. "Guess again, superstar," she giggled, swiping at the corner of her eyes, "normally I would be offended that some middle-aged man with an obvious complex and, judging from the hat, a receding hairline would actually flatter himself enough to think I would throw myself at him, but I've been having a pretty good day, so I choose to find this funny." She shook her head, black curls cascading over her shoulder as she turned around.

He gaped at her, trying to recall the last time a woman, besides his mother, had spoken to him like that. When he came up empty handed, he said the first thing that popped into his head. "Middle-aged?"

"Have a good day," she snorted, dismissing him with a quick glance, "and I'll have you know I do just fine with tips, but they're always appreciated." With one last parting smile, she walked through a door that lead to the kitchen, her giggles carrying as she left. He watched her as she went, feeling two feet shorter as a blush crept up into his cheeks. He brought the sleeve up closer to his eyes, his stomach twisting as he read the words, _Stay humble, work hard, be kind,_ and before he could stop himself, he shoved a fifty into the tip jar.

So, he'd been an ass, hopefully this would make up for it. Besides, the coffee was surprisingly good, a fact that only seemed to further annoy him. He scraped a hand over his face and, with a sigh, put her out of his mind. Even if she hadn't known it, he was Mike Lawson, and come this weekend, he had a game to win.

* * *

**_Strawberry Muffin and Coconut Hydrate Juice - $12_ **

Ginny Baker poured herself a second cup of coffee, allowing her eyes to flutter close and sucking in a deep breath for the first time since the early morning rush began. She loved Daniel's Café, from the incredible menu to the funky colored booths that littered the space, but there was only so much smiling one girl could do. She would need as much caffeine as she could pilfer if she was going to make it through her shift. And the artificial jolt of alertness always seemed to put her in a better mood, something she was desperate for if she wanted to shake off the funk that seemed to have settled over her the last week.

If someone had told her that she would finally meet Mike Lawson with a green apron tied around her waist and her hair reeking of coffee beans, she would have embraced that fate and never let go. Other members of the Padres had come in a few times since she'd started working, but it was one thing to grill Sonny Evers about where he got the speed for his pitch, and another to stumble across her hero. Since her fifteenth birthday, when her father had presented her with a poster of Mike Lawson mid-swing and pristine in his Padres jersey, she had known that no matter what it took, she would play on his team one day.

It was the thought, no, the dream that carried her through grueling practices and taunts from her teammates. It was what grounded her when her mother pulled her aside and whispered that she was leaving her father. _Not because of you Ginny Bean_ , she'd promised, _it's just all too much. He's more married to the baseball than he is to me_. And even as her mother pulled her in for a hug, Ginny knew that it was her fault. Because no matter how she tried, Ginny couldn't separate the girl from the mitt, the daughter from the pitch, so her mother's pain and her father's silent grief were on her shoulders. And up until last week, it was what made every ill-tempered customer and spilt drink worth the aggravation.

"Never meet your hero's," she murmured, the chime of the door interrupting the only impromptu break she would be able to take all day. Dropping the half-filled mug, she forced her lips to twitch into a smile, her burning cheeks be damned.

"Hi," she recited, rolling her shoulders back and wiping at a crumb on her apron, "welcome to Daniel's Café." She finally looked up, her heart thudding painfully before she had the chance to process who was waiting in front of her. The sight of Mike Lawson had rendered her a bumbling mess the last time he had stood on the opposite side of the counter, and after she had chased him away with some sharp words to counter his own, she had figured that she would never see him again. And yet, there he was, larger than life even without his sunglasses and baseball cap.

"You know," he started, casually leaning a hip against the pastry display case, "I wouldn't consider myself middle-aged."

She searched for something to say, anything, but instead clamped her teeth together and prayed for a miracle. It would be a cold day in hell before she blurted out how in love with him she'd been, not when arrogance seemed to be seeping out of his every pore.

"And I have a full head of hair, but thanks for that anyway."

She swallowed, trying not to flush when his eyes roved lazily down the length of her neck. "What can I get for you?"

"Most people know who I am," he continued, acting as if she hadn't spoken, "it's…refreshing."

"I know who you are," she said, surprising them both as she let her smile drop.

"And?"

"And I'm kind of disappointed," he reared back, something close to shock blooming on his face before he schooled his expression into one of disinterest. "I would have thought that somewhere along the way, someone would have taught you manners."

"Don't need manners when you play the way I do."

Ginny scoffed, busying herself with a sticky spot so that she wouldn't have to meet his stare. "I'm sorry, I hadn't realized catching a ball made you exempt from being a decent human being."

"And what would know about it?" He shot back, his charm receding just as easily as it appeared. "Probably a lot harder than making latte art and writing meaningless little quotes on coffee cups."

"Look, could you just order something?" She ground out, irritated as she felt the prick of tears in the back of her eyes. "Because if you don't, I'll have to kick you out, and that's not good for business."

The corners of his mouth quirked into a smile. "Give me one of those strawberry things," he decided, "and a coconut juice. Please," he tacked on, putting a challenge in the word that he wasn't quite sure he would win.

Her blood rushed through her ears as she made his drink, the sound alerting her to her racing heart. So this was how it felt to see a pedestal crumble. Mike Lawson wasn't a god, and as he stood there, watching her with narrowed eyes, she realized he was barely even a man. Just a child parading as a celebrity, so used to getting his way regardless of who he hurt.

"Here," she pushed his order over to him, unsure of what to do now. "Twelve dollars."

"Thanks," he reached for his wallet, pulling out a hundred dollar bill with a wink. "Keep the change."

* * *

_**Iced Tea - $3** _

Mike collapsed into his seat, his chest deflating as the air rushed out of him. He scoured his brain for someone to blame, for a way to rid himself of the misery coursing laboriously through his veins, but this was no one's fault but his own. He had been so close, so _close_ , to bringing his team to the playoffs. He had let himself dream, imagining the weight of the ring on his finger and that feeling of triumph when he could finally say that he was a champion. He knew he shouldn't have, but somewhere along the way, he started to believe those voices that had claimed he was the best. He let it fill him up until there was no room left for dedication or humility, and this is where it left him. In a café alone instead of where he should have been, downtown with the rest of his team drowning his sorrows in a beer and whatever woman was lucky enough to end up in his lap.

"Hey," his ears ticked at the familiar voice, "we're gonna close soon, but I can get you something if you want." He lifted his head from his hands, watching as her expression darkened. "Oh," she said, taking a step back, "sorry. I'll leave you alone."

"I don't even know your name." He hadn't been planning to speak, had wanted to stew in the hell he'd created for himself filled with equal parts self-loathing and pity, but somewhere deep inside, he knew he couldn't handle being alone. Not tonight, when he'd wrapped his fingers around his dream, just to watch it slip away. "I figure I deserve to know who to thank for all this shitty karma."

She pressed her serving tray against her waist, her head cocked to the side and curls spilling across her forehead. "It's Ginny," she said, her voice suspicious even as she offered him a hand. "Ginny Baker." He grabbed at her like he was a drowning man and she was a lifeline, desperate for something unconnected to his failure. She hated him, rightfully so, because he'd been a jerk, not because he had let her down on the field. "And, even though no one told you to keep coming in, it wasn't karma," she added, tugging her hand back to her side, "you made shitty calls, and there was only so much Hunter or Javanes could have done."

He stilled, his thoughts moving back to the day when he'd asked what she knew about being out on the diamond instead of in one of the stadium seats. She arched an eyebrow at him, her shoulder bouncing up into a shrug as she stared him down. "You know baseball, past what sport center had to say about me?"

She jerked her chin at the empty seat across from him, and he kicked it out, nodding to it and waiting for her to sit. "I play for UC San Diego."

"Softball?"

"No," she said through gritted teeth, bristling as he obviously nudged a slow healing wound, "baseball. I'm a pitcher, got a full ride right before graduating and now I'm finishing up my senior year."

He frowned down at the table, his thoughts sluggish. "You're a pitcher?"

She sighed, sliding down into her seat and folding her arms across her chest. "Have been since I was about eight. My dad almost got to the majors, so now that's the goal."

"But you're – "

"A girl?" She finished for him. "Yeah, I notice that little fact every time I look in the mirror. Hasn't stopped me."

"I was going to say pretty scrawny," he shot back, shaking away the daze that had settled over him. "Can't have much of a fast ball."

"It does the job."

"I guess that's all any body can ask for." She offered him a tight-lipped smile, still guarding herself, from what he wasn't exactly sure.

"I guess," she echoed, her shoulders relaxing from the place beside her ears. "So, you came here to sulk?"

"Didn't much feel like inviting other people to my pity party."

Ginny leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table and considering him with a curious look. "So you didn't make the playoffs. Sucks, but so what? Come next season, you'll be back on that field, and you get to try again. And when you finally do make it, it'll actually mean something." She exhaled, pushing away the words that sounded suspiciously like her father's. "I've got to close up soon, but I can bring you back something, on the house."

Brushing his fingers through his hair, he forced his gaze away from the table. "You don't have to."

"Doesn't mean I won't," she paused, her mouth screwing into a frown before she bumped her fist against his shoulder. "Just, wait here."

"Would you have done it differently? If you were in this game, playing on my team, would you blame me too?"

Ginny stopped, her body taut with uncertainty as she cleared her throat. "The pitcher-catcher relationship is all about trust, right? And yeah, the pitcher has to trust that you'll make the right calls, but you've got to know that someone will put you in your place when its just not your game. I would have waved you off." Her mouth ticked into a smirk, a devious glimmer sparking in her eyes that sent his stomach rolling. "And you would have thought I was a pain in the ass for it."

He swallowed back a chuckle, pulling out his cell phone as she went. With a quick tap of his thumbs, his screen filled with everything that was Ginny Baker, the young woman threatening to turn the world of baseball, his home, on its knees. And later, with an iced tea clenched in his fist and one of her games blaring on his television, he decided that he didn't mind what she was trying to do. Hell, maybe he even supported it. Because, with her face a mask of concentration and sweat casting a glow across her smooth skin, he knew she was right. Baker, with a near constant quick shake of her head and a trick pitch that he couldn't help but find impressive, would be a massive pain in the ass. But, at the end of the day, whatever team she was on would win.

* * *

**_Iced Latte with a Caramel Swirl - $6_ **

"Baker," Mike called, slapping his hands together as he sauntered up to the counter. She startled, letting a low groan as her skull connected with the underside of a shelf. "Sorry," he dropped his voice to whisper, "Baker."

"Way to make an entrance," she straightened, rubbing at the throbbing spot underneath her hair.

"Just part of the Mike Lawson experience." He snatched at her dish rag, twisting it around his wrist and watching as she rolled her eyes. "Besides, I brought you some customers, you and that tip jar should be thanking me."

"I've got cups to dry, tables to wipe," she wiggled her fingers, "I don't exactly have time to entertain."

The door chimed and Ginny's stare flicked past his shoulder and over to the pair of squealing boys calling her name. "Lawson, leave my girl alone."

Mike blinked as Ginny's face brightened, her towel forgotten as she vaulted over the counter. "Hey stranger," she cried, jogging over to where Blip stood and throwing her arms around his neck. Her giggles tinkled like bells as he lifted her from the ground and spun her, setting her down long enough for her to crouch down to her knees and grunt as the twins launched themselves at her. "What did Aunt Ginny say?"

"To come back everyday," they chorused, laughing as she fought to find her balance.

"And where exactly have you two been?"

Aiden pointed a finger behind them, tilting his chin up as he beamed, "Daddy said to blame Mommy."

"And Mommy said that Daddy had better take that back if he ever wanted to have special grown-up time with me again." Evelyn said with a flourish, smacking at the wave of black hair that tumbled into her cheek.

Pressing a quick kiss to each boys' cheek, Ginny stood and allowed herself to be enveloped by the woman she considered one of her oldest friends. "Evie," she cooed, warmth pooling in her chest as she grip tightened around Evelyn's waist.

"Imagine my surprise," Blip began, his eyes narrowing as he ambled over to Mike, "when my teammate here starts talking about this girl he met at a café." Ginny loosened her hold on Evelyn, chewing on the inside of her cheek to keep from smirking. "Keeps going on and on about how she's smart, doesn't take his shit, even a ball player and not to hard on the eyes either."

"Blip," Mike bit out, "quit it." He pushed against the heat moving past his cheeks and up into the tip of his ears.

"Come on Ginny, I just finished my cleanse so I need on of those sugary chocolate drinks you make so well," Evelyn tugged her forward, shooting Blip a warning look as he directed his glare over at a flustered Mike.

"Doesn't that defeat the purpose of a cleanse?"

"Hush up and start the blender."

Blip cast one last glance over to where his wife stood, her head bent close to Ginny's and a conspiratorial giggle passing between them, before nudging Mike's shoulder with his own. "Stay away from her, man."

"I wasn't going to – "

Blip held up a hand, stopping whatever excuses and half-hearted explanations Mike was prepared to offer. "I know how you work, and I'm okay with it. Your girls know what they're getting themselves into, and they've made their peace with it. But I've known Baker since she was a kid, me and her family go way back, so that girl? She's like a sister to me, and I'm not about to let you hurt her."

"I like the coffee here, and she's easy to talk to, for the most part. Nothing's happening here, I swear."

Blip watched him for a moment longer, and Mike ignored the urge to squirm underneath his probing stare. "Good, better keep it that way." He clapped a hand down on Mike's arm before rushing over to Brandon and hoisting him onto his back. "Sanders team, we've got to head out."

"If you aren't over for Friday dinner, I'll find you, and it won't be pretty." Evelyn winked, squeezing Ginny's hand before ushering Aiden and his cake pop out the door. "Same goes to you, Mike," she tossed back before the door hit the frame.

"They said you'd cover the bill," Ginny plunked down beside Mike, pulling her lip into her mouth before he could catch sight of her grin. He let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding as she bumped an iced latte closer to him, feeling more rattled than he had the right to be. "So what, one semi-decent conversation and suddenly we're friends?"

"Don't get ahead of yourself, Rookie," he brought the straw to his lips, taking a sip before setting it back down beside his leg.

"Rookie?"

"I saw you play, thought it was fitting for when you end up in the show."

"Right," she ducked her head, welcoming the rush of relief that came with the knowledge that she hadn't been wrong about the man that had hung from her wall. Yes, he had a terrible attitude forged from years of unadulterated praise, and one conversation didn't rectify that. But as he brushed his thumb along his lip and elbowed her side, she felt a slight thrill. Because this was the Mike Lawson she'd always imagined, the one that she dreamt of playing with one day.

"You know," she teased, "you're somewhat likeable when you aren't being an ass."

"Glowing approval, Baker, it's too much for my icy heart to take."

She peeked up at him, those outrageously thick lashes fluttering as she cocked her head to the side. "You're the one doling at compliments like ridiculously high tips." His lips parted, words getting caught in his throat before he had the chance to figure out what he needed to say. "Right," she laughed, drumming her hands against the table. "I'll miss the tips." She twisted, a bounce in her step as she pasted on a grin for her new customer.

He dragged his tongue over his teeth, his fingers unfurling from around his knee, and wondered how he could have let this happen. He should have realized each time he walked in with Ginny's eyes in mind, anticipating her sharp words and the tilt of her lip as she smiled, that he was allowing this thing between them to form.

Suddenly trouble had only one name for Mike Lawson, and it was Ginny Baker.

* * *

**_Chocolate Scone - $7_ **

"I just wiped that."

Mike squinted over his shoulder, swatting Ginny away as he wiggled in his seat. "Not everyone can say they've had their counter polished by Mike Lawson's ass."

"I should call them up and ask how they got so lucky," she mumbled, hopping up beside him and kicking out her legs. "You're paying my rent check if you get me fired."

"Because it's so busy right now?" He asked, sweeping his gaze over the empty café. She shrugged, watching as he groped behind him and came back with a handful of ice. "Why do you work so many hours anyway? I can't think of the last time I came in here and you weren't behind that counter with that fake smile."

"It's so not a fake smile!" She cried with mock outrage.

"It definitely is," she cringed as he bit into an ice cube, "you want to know how I can tell? You get this little crease between your eyebrows, right…here," he lifted his finger, only pulling back as her eyes widened.

"Shouldn't the real question be why you're always here?"

"Off-season," he answered, whipping a piece of ice at her. She slapped it away, rolling her eyes with a begrudging smile.

"I like the routine. When I'm not in classes, I'm at practice, and when I'm not there, I'm here. Anyway, it's probably smart to have some savings, in case this is my last chance to pitch."

"Don't." She turned, pulling her knees to her chest as she waited for him to continue. "You're not gonna get anywhere if you're planning to fail."

"I'm not, but I've got a fastball that tops out at seventy miles an hour and it's not like the teams are exactly blowing up my phone."

"But if you did make it, if you got to pitch on the national stage, where would it be?"

She smiled, a wistful twist of her lips that made him desperate to wipe it away. "Come on, is that even a question?" She kicked out her foot, nudging her toe into his thigh. "San Diego is my home, always has been, and the Padres are my team. Blip and Evelyn are here, my mom when she bothers to pick up my calls, my brother…besides, the guys wouldn't be the worst to be around."

"There you go again, saying the sweetest things." Mike replied, getting snagged in the orbit that was Ginny Baker's eyes, chocolate pools that tugged him in.

"Hey," he sprang backwards as Blip strode into the café, uncertain of when he'd gotten so close, or why guilt was clawing at him as Ginny jumped down from the counter to welcome the rest of the team. "We interrupting something?"

"Well, I was trying to close up but Lawson was getting in the way, so the more the merrier." She lifted her hand, accepting the high-five Miller offered. "You guys can clear out the pastries no one ate."

"So this is where you've been hiding out, Lawson?" Javanes asked, settling in beside Mike. "We've missed you over at the bar."

Salvamani rested his elbows on the counter, his arms straining against the material of his t-shirt. "Better company here," he murmured, his stare pulling a flush up Ginny's cheeks. "You've been keeping Baker all for yourself, Mike?"

"I've actually been working, but nice try," Ginny spun away to the chorus of cackles and jeers.

"Baker," Mike called, his voice carrying over the taunts, "get me one of those chocolate scone things."

"Get it yourself," she replied, lifting a bin of dirty cups and beaming as Cristiello plucked it from her arms and dumped it into the sink. "You know where it is."

"So when you gonna let me make an honest woman of you, Baker?" Salvamani asked as he moved over to where she stood, his hands falling to either side of her waist.

"Salvy," Mike murmured, his voice holding a warning and his expression dark. He glanced over at Blip, and for what felt like the first time since he'd stumbled into Ginny's stratosphere, his thoughts was mirrored on Blip's face. Teammate or not, Ginny was off limits, especially to the man who's reputation rivaled Mike's.

"Fixing to get hitched?" Ginny asked, craning her chin up to meet his eye. "Funny, I can't seem to remember a first date and those sort of matter to me."

"How about we fix that then?" He slid in closer, setting everything around Mike an angry red. "Let me take you out."

"As romantic as that proposal was," she said sweetly, ducking underneath his arm and sucking in a breath, "I don't date ball players. Besides, I have a boyfriend."

Mike stilled, his anger taking on a confused tilt. "Since when?"

Ginny gave him a strange look, patting Salvamani's arm as she walked past him and over to the sink. "It'll be one year next week."

Mike slipped from the counter, forgetting for a moment that they had an audience, and scowled at her. "You never mentioned him before."

"You never asked," she countered.

"So some UC mook, probably majoring in English – "

"Computer engineering," she corrected him with a frown.

"Computer engineering, all the better," he droned, "and you think he's good enough for you?"

"He's a good guy," she grumbled, annoyed with herself for letting him anywhere near this part of her life. Mike, the Padres, they all operated in this tiny world she'd created for herself here. "Noah's smart, and he's fun, and he get's what it means to be passionate about something important."

"What, keg stands and frat hazing?"

"He's into tech," she declared, leaving little room for argument in her voice. Before she could stop it, her lips perked into a gentle smile. "He can spend hours talking about it, and even when I hardly know what he's talking about, I can tell he loves it."

Swallowing roughly, Mike grabbed at his jacket, shrugging off Blip's hand on his arm. "Glad you're happy."

Ginny watched as he marched away, that light bubbling feeling in her chest disappearing as he left.

* * *

**_A Six-Pack and a Bag of Chips - $15_ **

Mike Lawson didn't apologize. Or, he didn't until Ginny Baker's stricken eyes slammed into him and he set a grimace twitching on her lips. He didn't know why he snapped, but the idea of Ginny with anyone but…anyone drove him mad. He didn't want anyone touching her, not Salvamani, not some random guy probably more in love with his computer than the amazing woman in front of him, no one. It took him an embarrassingly long time to realize that he didn't have the right to feel that way, not after knowing Baker for a little more than three months.

But, how was he supposed to apologize to someone he couldn't find? After giving him the cold shoulder for weeks, she disappeared. She hadn't been to the café in over a week, and he spent more time and money than respectable scoping at the place with the vain hope that she would walk in, her hair flying around as she chattered a mile a minute and her smile incandescently bright.

After a week, he couldn't help but lose his patience. So, he did the only thing he could think of.

"Please."

Blip huffed out a sigh, dragging his hands along the front of his jeans. "No."

"She's been AWOL the last eight days," Mike pleaded, his fingers scraping through his hair. "I'm worried."

"Or maybe, since you've known her for all of three minutes, you haven't exactly gotten her schedule down."

"An address, that's all I'm asking for."

"And I'm saying no, man," Blip exclaimed. "I see the way you look at her, and I get it because I know how great she is, but what I don't like is how she's been looking at you."

"She's been looking at me?" He croaked, rubbing his hand along his throat.

Glowering at him, Blip shoved up and out of his chair. "In an ideal world, Ginny gets onto the Padres, and I'm not gonna have you distracting her. I promised her family that I would have her back, and that means telling you to leave her be."

"Fine," Mike stood, trying not to look as dejected as he felt. "Sorry for bothering you."

Blip grunted, walking over to the couch.

"I guess I'll let myself out." He muttered, stopping when he noticed Evelyn leaning against the door.

"For the record," she whispered, "I don't tend to disagree with my husband, but you've become a lot less of an ass since you and Ginny decided to start whatever it is you're doing, and it's done Ginny good too. She's been killing it lately at her games, and I'll admit it, you're fun to crush on when someone's feeling particularly self destructive, so here." Mike glanced down at her hand, taking the crinkled piece of paper she offered. "Make sure she's okay, and then _call_ me."

"Yeah," he nodded, too busy sorting through everything she said to feel offended. "Will do."

It took Mike thirty minutes to get to Ginny's dorm, and by the time he pulled into the parking lot of her building, he had thought of every bad thing that could have happened. An arm injury, a lost scholarship, a death in the family. He slammed his car door, armed with an six pack, a bag of chips, and the urge to see her, and barreled into the building.

"Rookie," he banged on her door, "open up."

"Whoa," he swiveled around at the breathy, female voice behind him, "you're Mike Lawson."

"And you're - ?"

"Kara," she grabbed his hand, chestnut brown hair spilling across her bare shoulder, "Ginny's roommate. You're cuter in person."

"Thanks?" He tugged his hand back. "Baker in?"

"Yeah," Kara's face fell, her interest giving way to concern, "but she's kind of had a rough week."

"Rough week?"

Squinting, she took out her key and unlocked her door. "You know about the boyfriend, right?" She waited for him to nod. "Well, she broke up with him last week, and the next day, he swore to post all the pictures she sent him." When he frowned, she let the door swing open. "Every picture, dressed or otherwise."

"Shit," he whistled, taking a step into the room and feeling her wave of despair wash over him. She glanced up from her bed, her face streaked with tears and her eyes tinged red.

"Come to gloat?" She asked, letting out a harsh laugh. "You were right, Noah was a piece of shit." And with that, the sobs started up, bitter and heartbreaking and desperate for release. Mike watched her, uncertain of what to do, before he felt a nudge in his back. Kara nodded to Ginny, mouthing a quick _GO_ , before closing the door behind her.

He dropped beside her, leaving a space between them as she cried. And it was only after she glanced up at him with crystalline tears caught in her lashes that he pulled her into his arms.

"So," he started, stroking his fingers through her hair, "Noah the tech guy was a jackass." He twirled a curl around his finger, running his thumb over the silken strand. "Didn't think that was enough to knock you down."

"No," she whimpered, the fabric of his shirt balling in his fist, "but I feel so stupid. I figured, I could trust him."

"They're just pictures," he murmured, trying to sound soothing.

"It's not about those, not really. I'm proud of my body and I have nothing to be embarrassed of, but now when people Google Ginny Baker, this is what they'll see. Not my stats, not that perfect game I pitched last season, just a bunch of poorly lit selfies. And," he felt when a new wave of tears seeped through his shirt, "and I guess I thought I knew him better than this. We had a year together, that has to have meant something."

He couldn't think of anything to say, not when for most of his life he'd been the Noah in this situation. He would never do this, violate someone's privacy like Noah planned to, but how many times had he treated women like they were disposable? Replaceable? Unimportant?

"Look, we'll figure this out."

"We'll?" She pulled back, her eyes surprisingly dry now that she'd run through her tears. He gave her a crooked grin, hoping that in him she would see that it would all be alright.

"I didn't haul ass all the way over here if I planned on letting you wallow around. I even bought chips and beer."

She inhaled, feeling her lungs stretch before she let it all go. Even if Mike hadn't been sitting there, strong and silent and surprisingly warm, she wouldn't have had any other choice. She'd given Noah a week, hell, a year more than he deserved and now he wouldn't be taking up anymore of her time.

Mike glanced around, feeling his smile grow. "I like the decorations, Rookie."

Ginny slapped her hands over his eyes, her sadness dying away as mortification took its place. "Please tell me you didn't see anything."

"My poster on the wall, my jersey hanging on the closet door," he marveled, peeking at her through the slits between her fingers. "It's flattering, really."

"Shut up and crack some beers." She laughed, sitting back on her heels and making a mental note to redecorate.

He left as the sun streamed in through the curtains, his back stiff and his eyes burning from hours of Netflix. Ginny would be okay, he was sure of it, but as he started his car, he decided that maybe he could make his certainty a reality.

"Gin!" Kara called a week later, running into their room with her computer resting on her arm. "Come quick!"

"I kind of just want to lay low today, K," Ginny replied, running a comb through her hair. "I don't really feel like seeing anyone when the pictures come out."

"That's just it," she jumped up onto Ginny's bed, "the URL, the countdown, it's all gone."

"Wait, what?"

Kara leaned forward, taking Ginny's chin and pressing their foreheads together. "No pictures, no big reveal. It's over."

"It's over?" Ginny asked slowly, her voice trembling with hope.

"It's over!" Kara screamed, flinging her laptop onto Ginny's pillow and jumping to her feet. "Noah's a little shit, but I guess he'd done being the creepiest man in America."

"I guess so," Ginny grinned, catapulting up and twirling around the room. She knew Noah better than most, and she was positive he would go through with it. And later, when she found out about how Mike bought not only Noah's URL but the pictures too, only to watch them deleted to make sure no one could use them against her, she would try and remember the last time someone had done something that amazing for her.

For right now though, she spun her roommate around their closet of a room and let herself breath.

* * *

**_A Kiss – Priceless_ **

"What did you do?" Ginny seethed quietly, slamming her apron down on the counter and scowling at Mike as he hooked his sunglasses onto his shirt.

"You're yelling at me," he sighed, "and I'm not exactly sure why."

"I told you that when I made it, I wanted to do it on my own, not as some favor for the golden boy." His eyebrow ticked up, but in the months since he'd forged this friendship with Ginny, he'd learnt how to wait. No one could speed Baker along, and he wouldn't fool himself into believing he was special. "You're playing dumb now."

"Not playing, Rookie. You plan on explaining all the things going on up in that pretty little head of yours."

"There was a Padres scout at my last game. They want me, and I doubt you didn't have something to do with it."

It was an argument that they seemed to be having more and more as they grew closer. Ginny was hell bent on keeping the team out of the decisions that happened in the front office, something that the other guys were ready to respect. If she was being honest, they may have liked her, but some of them didn't believe she was capable of playing in their league. And the ones that did knew that it would hurt her case more than help if they got involved. Even Blip, who seemed desperate to see her realize her dream, agreed to let what was meant to happen play out.

Yet, somehow, despite how often she explained it, Mike just didn't get it.

"Let me talk to Oscar for you," he constantly begged, whether she was at work or they were holed up in her dorm. And each time, the answer was always the same, _No_. It never seemed to stop him from asking though.

Ginny pursed her lips as she prepared for the excuses. She knew it came from a good place, but still she'd thought he'd changed. That somehow Mike Lawson could somehow reconcile with the idea of seeing something he wanted and not expecting it on a silver platter. But instead of apologies and explanations, he surprised her, his eyes widening and his lips spreading into a grin.

"I didn't do anything," he said slowly, tasting each word before spitting them out into the world.

"No," she shook her head, the card in her pocket suddenly so much heavier.

"Baker," he threw his arms open, "you made it."

"I made it?" She swallowed, the world slowing as her thoughts raced through every long, aching night. Through every sacrifice and agonizing moment that got her here. She'd given her body, her mind, her family to this goal, and suddenly it was within reach.

"Get in here." She didn't need to be told twice, running around the counter and careening into him, her arms snaking around his neck and his wrapping around her waist. "Damn it, Baker, I knew you could do it." He pulled back, just long enough to see those eyes he'd come to love, and felt the last of his restraint snap away. "Ginny," he breathed, her name tumbling from his lips soft as a prayer. And he felt when something inside of her broke, saw the decision on her face a second before her mouth ghosted against his. He didn't move, afraid to break the spell around them, but then her chin tilted and her tongue was sweeping over his bottom lip and, damn it he was kissing Ginny Baker, and it was better than he'd ever imagined.

"I don't date ball players," she murmured, a shiver coursing through her as he bit her lip.

"I know," he whispered, his grip on her tightening.

"This won't work," he backed them over to the counter, her hip pressing into the smooth surface.

"I know," his hand moved down, cupping her ass like he'd wanted to do since they'd met. This thing, electric and terrifying and new, couldn't survive. Not with her going to the minors and Blip and what it would mean when she became the most important woman in the world. Still, for right now, he wouldn't stop kissing her, not until she asked him to.

"Baker!" They jumped, their teeth clinking together painfully as they startled. "We don't maul the customers!"

Ginny pressed her forehead to his, a silent chuckle tickling his upper lip. "Sorry, won't happen again." She kissed him one last time, lingering and filled with so much promise that it stole the breath from his chest, and ducked underneath the counter. "Hi," she grinned, squeezing her eyes shut, "what can I get you?"

"Just you," he said, the words humiliatingly earnest and completely true. Even though he felt like cringing, her grin grew, until there was no star that could touch the woman standing in front of him.

"You're a goober," she mumbled, "you've already got me."

Mike Lawson was a busy man, but for some people he would wait. And for one girl, he'd love every damn second of it.


End file.
